


How Do You Catch a Storm and Pull It Down?

by liadan14



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Adolin wants to hug everybody forever, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kaladin is bad at feelings, M/M, Multi, Oathbringer spoilers, Post-Oathbringer, Threesome, minor safehand kink, negotiating polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: It takes Shallan approximately two months after the wedding to realize that she is an idiot.In her defense, there is a minor apocalypse going on, and Adolin is very good at distracting her.Her realization comes in the form of watching Bridge Four train. This was suggested by Szeth as a way for her and the other Radiants to learn about Windrunners and their abilities, and she was very resistant indeed because she had turned over a new page that involved not ogling Kaladin, but about ten minutes into pointedly watching any of the other bridgemen who are not Kaladin, she realizes that Adolin has had no such compunctions and is very much ogling Kaladin.She almost laughs out loud.





	How Do You Catch a Storm and Pull It Down?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic sprung from me finishing Oathbringer yesterday and being sad about having to wait forever for a sequel, and also from there being a lot (I mean relatively) of fics that have them in a complete threesome already without the process of getting there. I wrote it in about three hours. Ngl, this is mostly character study and porn, with a few moments veering dangerously far into I-think-I'm-funny-so-you-don't-have-to. Enjoy my epic Adolin feels, I guess? The other inspiration for this fic was that in my head, Adolin is both, like, a highly competent dude, but also if he had the internet he would cry at every video of pets getting adopted from animal shelters and also he would constantly be showing Shallan and Kaladin cat videos on youtube and going "but look at their little paws"

It takes Shallan approximately two months after the wedding to realize that she is an idiot. 

In her defense, there is a minor apocalypse going on, and Adolin is very good at distracting her. 

Her realization comes in the form of watching Bridge Four train. This was suggested by Szeth as a way for her and the other Radiants to learn about Windrunners and their abilities, and she was very resistant indeed because she had turned over a new page that involved not ogling Kaladin, but about ten minutes into pointedly watching any of the other bridgemen who are not Kaladin, she realizes that Adolin has had no such compunctions and is very much ogling Kaladin.

She almost laughs out loud.

Later, in the evening, when Adolin comes back from Jasnah’s mandatory daily strategy meetings (Shallan knew suggesting Jasnah as queen would come back to haunt her), she quirks a brow at him from her comfortable position by the window, sketching Shadesmar from memory.

“I understand,” she says, very earnestly. “I know I could never compete with Kaladin. I mean, he can _fly_. I’ll be fine if you leave me for him.”

She regrets it instantly as a niggling doubt she had been totally unaware of rears its ugly head, asking what if it’s just the opportunity he’d been waiting for? What if he secretly preferred men? What if she was just there to ensure the line of succession?

Adolin blushes red to the tips of his ears. “I,” he says. “Er. Shallan, I’m so sorry.”

Shallan is about to interrupt this clearly ludicrous line of thinking, but Adolin continues, rushed, hectic. “I know I’m a terrible husband, we’ve only been married two months and I’m already looking at, well, I mean…I hope you can forgive me.”

She stares at him blankly for a moment. “You are aware that we had a whole discussion about me watching him in much the same way?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you are aware that being married doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to _look_.”

“You weren’t looking at him,” Adolin says, a touch sadly.

“It was a conscious effort,” Shallan admits. “Don’t you think that if we both want him, perhaps there is a better solution than…well, this?”

Adolin draws nearer to sit down beside her. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not suggesting that, I’m suggesting…adding him.”

For a battle-seasoned Highprince, Adolin’s expressions can be as shocked and disapproving as any ardent’s.

“Why not?” Shallan asks, setting her sketchbook aside. “It’s the _desolation_. And _we’re_ the Voidbringers. Surely everything is so confused that no one will care, or even notice, if we choose to involve someone else in our marriage. Surely we’re not even the first to do so.”

Adolin considers. “A good point well made,” he says at length. Shallan takes a moment to consider his (lovely) shoulders, and then remembers that Kaladin had taken his shirt off in the heat of the Shattered Plains today. She imagines both, side by side. She imagines both, together.

“I think this will be a good thing,” she says. 

-

As it turns out, convincing Adolin is significantly easier than convincing Kaladin. For one, Adolin is a pushover. For another, Shallan has a way with words. For a third, Adolin actually _listened to what she had to say._

In the following weeks, Adolin suffers a heretofore unknown level of frustration trying to get the bridgeboy to sit still and listen to him for long enough to convincingly convey the concept of the threesome. 

Shallan had tried first, of course, being clearly far braver than Adolin ever has been, but she reported back with a similar lack of success. While she and Kaladin are friendly, every time she tried to draw nearer to him, or mention Adolin, or her marriage, or even her feelings towards Kaladin, he withdrew and all-but ran. 

So here Adolin is, out on the Shattered Plains again, trying to act nonchalant about joining Bridge Four for their training exercises despite his utter lack of Radiance. 

“It will be good to know how you fight,” he had claimed. “Especially if all the Skybreakers but one are working for the enemy.” As if Adolin had a rockbud’s chance in a highstorm of facing a Skybreaker, let alone a dozen of them, with nothing but a Shardblade that may or may not have started answering him when he talked. 

Kaladin accepts this ludicrously flimsy excuse for Adolin to continue staring at his bare chest with equanimity – but strangely, whenever Shallan appears to watch, he's clothed again.

“I can’t even explain what you’re missing,” he tells her mournfully after the last such misadventure. “He’s just so pretty.”

Shallan sighs in agreement. “And so tortured.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“That’s why we need you,” she says. “You’ll balance us out.”

Privately, Adolin fully intends on spoiling both of them rotten – if only they would let him. But so far, following Kaladin around like a lost puppy and even refraining from calling him “bridgeboy” has yielded no returns. Even Renarin has caught on to what his brother is doing, and starts openly laughing at him with the other bridgemen. It’s a sorry state of affairs.

“Listen, goncho,” one particularly obnoxious bridgeman tells him. He was introduced to Adolin as Lopen’s cousin, and that was such an unhelpful descriptor that the name instantly vanished from Adolin’s memory. “Kaladin’s as thick as the walls to Urithiru. You want something from him, you’re going to have to spell it out.”

“This is true,” Rock agrees sagely.

So Adolin stalks off after Kaladin to wherever he’s gone, feeling his dignity mightily wounded, although he is a little pleased the bridgemen at least like him enough to help.

He finds Kaladin staring out over a chasm, wind blowing his hair. 

“And here,” Adolin says, unable to help himself, “we find the majestic bridgeboy in his natural state: brooding.”

Kaladin turns to face him. “What is it you want?” he asks.

“A lot of things.”

“Look, I don’t know what exactly happened with you and Shallan,” Kaladin continues, turning a little red, “but I don’t really know why you’re both…”

“Interested?” Adolin offers.

“Always here!” Kaladin shouts. “You should be with your wife, and leave me out of it. You should hate me.”

“Funny story,” Adolin says. “I was all ready to be the bigger man and release Shallan from our engagement. She said she chose me.”

Bitterness wells up in Kaladin’s expression, and Adolin rushes on, “But as it turns out, we kind of both want you and we just wanted to see if you’d be interested in that.”

Kaladin says nothing.

“Um.” Adolin says. “Look, I’m absolute rubbish at this. But we wanted to…to…” well, he could hardly say _rip your clothes off and ravish you_ , Kaladin may have a heart attack. “Invite you over for dinner.” There, that seemed like a suitably acceptable way to phrase it.

Kaladin’s eyes narrow. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Uh.” Adolin shrugs. “I don’t really know. Whatever you want. I promise to actually feed you dinner.”

Kaladin turns away again. “It’s only been a few months. How can the marriage bed possibly already be that boring?”

“It’s not about that,” Adolin says, indignation burning in his throat. “As improbable as it may seem, we both _like_ you and want to spend time with you, you blistering idiot.”

“Oh,” Kaladin says. 

“Yeah, oh,” Adolin says, still furious. “We’re not going to besmirch your reputation and leave you a broken woman. We want you to be a part of our marriage. And if that’s not something you want, or if, if you don’t want both of us, can you please just tell me now, because it’s been _weeks_ and it’s getting embarrassing to chase after you.”

Kaladin says nothing, and Adolin, who is starting to feel more than a little embarrassed and hurt, takes it as his cue to stalk off back towards the Oathgate.

“Wait, Adolin,” Kaladin yells, chasing after him. “Uh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.”

He really is dense. Adolin waits, cautious, but doesn’t turn around.

“I,” Kalodin says, drawing even with him. “I’d love to come to dinner. If. If you really. If that’s.”

Adolin beams, his entire face lighting up. “Excellent!” He says. “Tonight. I promise there will not be stew.”

-

Kaladin doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He hasn’t exactly courted much before, one failed courtship in wartime does not experience make. But Shallan and Adolin seem determined to press on through his awkwardness and his insecurity, and determined to treat him like…well, like a lighteyed lady. They take him to restaurants in Urithiru he would never conceive of entering alone, apparently heedless of the stares they draw in their odd threesome. Adolin _feeds him fried dough balls off his own fork_ one time. They take him stargazing. They invite him to their quarters for card games or just to drink tea and talk. It’s bizarre.

What’s more bizarre is that Kaladin…just lets them. He endures endless teasing from his men about it, and blushes bright red whenever they arrive at the barracks to pick him up for an evening together. 

Lopen has convinced everyone he can it’s some sort of carnal arrangement and persists in giving Kaladin the most lewd winks.

Rock has stated that he expects to cook at the wedding, and wasn’t entirely convinced by the explanation that three-way weddings don’t really happen in Alethkar. “We are not in Alethkar,” he pointed out, and Kaladin had no easy response to that.

Sigzil designed a special form for Kaladin to fill out, should he feel the desire to.

It’s not that Kaladin doesn’t appreciate his men’s support. It’s more that he’s baffled by it.

“You do deserve to be happy,” Syl tells him, fluttering around him as he puts on his one non-uniform shirt in preparation for yet another dinner date. “I like seeing you happy.”

“Happiness comes before death and destruction,” Kaladin says gloomily. “Or me ruining everything.” 

Syl shakes her head at him. “Your attitude needs improvement. Here they are, bending over backwards to make you feel happy, and you won’t even kiss them. I’ve been telling you, you should be making love, it makes everyone happy.”

Kaladin points a threatening finger at her. “I hope you’re not watching.”

She sniffs primly. “I have more interesting things to do with my time.”

Tonight, they’re eating dinner on the balcony in Shallan and Adolin’s quarters, by starlight. The night is almost unnervingly quiet, no storms on the horizon.

“You could almost imagine there’s no war,” Shallan says dreamily, popping a piece of stewed fruit in her mouth not-quite-daintily.

“Mm,” Kaladin agrees, leaning back in his seat to look at the constellations. 

“Are the stars the same in Hearthstone?” Adolin asks.

As always, Kaladin is taken by surprise when they ask him about his past. He shouldn’t be – they are both quite open with their own histories, even the unpleasant parts. He feels almost touched that they care enough to ask about his insignificant hometown.

“Not the same as Urithiru, no,” Kaladin says. “I think it’s seasonal. They’re probably the same in Hearthstone and Kholinar.”

“That makes sense,” Adolin says.

There’s a rustle of cloth, and then, suddenly, Shallan is seated on Kaladin’s lap. “Hello,” she says.

“Um,” Kaladin says.

“I don’t know if I’m being too forward,” she says, “but this seems like a fairly romantic setting.”

She leans down and kisses him, and Kaladin has perhaps never been more shocked in his life, despite knowing for weeks that this is where courtship is usually headed.

She pulls back, just a little, asks, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” he croaks. “Yes, definitely.”

“Good,” she smiles, like a windspren caught in a highstorm, and Kaladin has been slow to understand Veil and Radiant, but he’s almost certain there’s a hint of Veil peeking through right now. 

They kiss again, slowly, hesitantly on his part, and her hand tangles in his hair. When they pull apart moments later, he’s just a tad out of breath, and she’s blushing.

“Can I,” Adolin says, sounding strangled, and somehow he’s pulled them both to their feet in an instant. He holds Shallan close in his right arm, and with his left, he reels Kaladin in and absolutely destroys him.

In the hazy moments of being kissed within an inch of his life, with Adolin’s tongue pressed against his and his arm a strong band around Kaladin’s waist, Shallan tracing patterns up and down Kaladin’s side, Kaladin understands them a little better.

Shallan is always in action, always in her mind, always secreting a part of herself away, the same way Kaladin holds himself, and Adolin is…Adolin is the opposite. Adolin is genuine to a fault, earnest and kind and holding Kaladin and Shallan both close like they’re something to be protected. 

“Stay,” Shallan whispers, “stay with us.”

Kaladin thinks of being alone with her in the chasms, of Adolin being imprisoned beside him out of loyalty, of being trapped in Shadesmar with them both, of finding their way out together each time, of being _so alone_ ever since he’d left Hearthstone.

“Yes,” he says.

-

Shallan is almost nonchalant as she unbuttons the sleeve of her safehand, pulls off her dress.

Kaladin is blushing bright red. 

Adolin desperately wants to be touching them both, but he holds himself back. “Kaladin,” he says, hesitant but needing to know, “have you done this before?”

Kaladin shakes his head wordlessly. From what he’s gathered about Kaladin’s life, Adolin had suspected as much. 

What surprises him is the fierce pleasure he feels at hearing it. “Good,” he says. Kaladin laughs.

“Well,” Shallan says, naked and reclined on the bed, “are you going to join me?”

She’s playing at bravery, still, and they all know she is not as confident as she pretends to be, but the way Kaladin’s breath catches in his throat, the way his flush spreads down his neck – that will help her confidence become real. 

Adolin pulls his shirt over his head, toes off his boots, and makes a decision.

He settles behind Shallan on the bed, holds her close, and beckons Kaladin to join them

Kaladin does, pulling off his shirt as well. He settles above Shallan, just so that they aren’t touching anywhere, and kisses her. 

They kiss for long minutes, exploring each other, slow and careful. Adolin rumbles in pleasure behind Shallan, enjoying the view and in no rush whatsoever.

“Can I-“ Kaladin starts to ask.

“Please,” Shallan says, and Kaladin scoots back to his knees to look at her. Her ears go a little red, but she keeps her composure remarkably. Then again, she and Adolin have been having quite a lot of fun, the past few months.

Kaladin’s fingers trace her collarbone, her shoulders, the slight curve of her breast. His head dips to mouth along her neck, and she tilts her head back against Adolin’s chest, sighing. Kaladin is slow to move further down, to follow his fingers with his mouth, but when he does, Shallan lets him hear her appreciation. 

Unable to resist, Adolin cards through Kaladin’s hair. It’s so soft. Kaladin moans in appreciation.

He pulls away from caressing Shallan’s breast to look Adolin straight in the eye and say, “Tell me what to do.”

“Storms,” Adolin gasps, as Shallan shudders.

Kaladin is still looking at him. Smoldering, really. 

Adolin says. “Spread her legs for you.”

Shallan does it for him, really, eager. 

“Kiss her,” Adolin says.

“Here?” Kaladin asks, kissing her mouth slowly, gently.

“Lower,” Adolin says roughly.

Kaladin kisses her neck, just below the ear.

“Lower.”

Her collarbone, slow and gentle. Shallan shivers.

“Lower.”

Kaladin is soft, gentle, licking and massaging the tops of her breasts.

“Lower.”

Her nipples. She arches into the suction, and Adolin is beginning to doubt Kaladin’s inexperience.

“Lower,” he almost growls.

Kaladin’s tongue stabs into her bellybutton, and she shrieks with laughter. But he has stopped waiting for commands, has pressed his mouth to that most intimate place, that most intimate kiss.

Shallan’s hands migrate to his hair almost immediately, and she is most certainly the one telling Kaladin what to do now. He reaches up, catches her safehand in his. She shivers. Kaladin pulls away to press a kiss to her palm, and for a moment, it’s just Kaladin and Shallan. She traces his jaw gently with her safehand, then pushes him back down to his job.

Adolin has never in his life been more erect, or less inclined to do anything about it.

Except run his mouth, that is.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he sighs. “Both of you. I have no idea how I got so lucky. Storms, Kaladin, can you feel how she’s shivering for you? I don’t know how you’re so good, but you’re so good, so perfect for us.”

Shallan makes noises of agreement, and Kaladin seems to struggle for a moment with arguing, but can’t quite pull himself away from where his tongue is tracing patterns on Shallan’s clit. 

“Fingers,” Adolin says. “You could put a finger or two in her. She likes that.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Shallan agrees vehemently.

With Kaladin’s fingers in her and his mouth on her, she’s not going to be much longer, Adolin can tell. She’s tensing up in his arms, drawing tighter and moaning, holding Kaladin firm where he is, and he’s not sure if either of them are aware of the light stormlight glow coming off them both, but it’s amazing.

Shallan comes down in twitches and starts, pulls Kaladin up to kiss him thoroughly. Kaladin is thoroughly flushed, his cock tenting his pants, and Adolin’s mouth waters.

“I think it’s your turn,” Shallan says to Adolin cheekily. “I’ll just…” She settles herself beside the bed, entirely nude, watching. 

Adolin grabs for Kaladin, presses him into the sheets, and kisses him with what feels like his whole body, pressing them tight together. Kaladin moans against his mouth.

He treats Kaladin to the same experience he gave Shallan, pressing kisses to his neck, sucking on his nipples, running fingers up and down his sides, really just reveling in how storming lovely Kaladin is. How responsive, gasping and shifting and saying Adolin’s name.

When Adolin strokes him slowly, through his pants, his hips thrust upward apparently of their own volition, and he _whimpers_. 

“I think we’ve made him wait long enough,” Shallan says conversationally. “You should probably fuck him now.”

“Is that what you want, bridgeboy?” Adolin asks.

Kaladin looks at him, his eyes wide, expressive, beautiful. “Please,” he says.

Adolin feels stunned, run through, by how open, how trusting Kaladin is after weeks of tentative overtures, months of stilted silences and misunderstandings. How so little affection has melted him so completely into this gorgeous creature. He resolves to absolutely shower Kaladin with affection.

Adolin fumbles for the oil, and finds Shallan has already pressed it into his hand. He has no doubt she’s recording all this for a sketch later. She’d been very curious about the mechanics of sex between men, perhaps too curious. 

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” Adolin whispers into Kaladins skin as he slicks up his fingers, settles between Kaladin’s thighs. “I’m going to make this so good for you.”

He begins to press his index finger slowly, inexorably, into Kaladin. Kaladin’s jaw clenches, and Adolin pets his stomach. “Shh,” he says, “I know it’s weird at first, but it’s worth it.”

“I do know something about anatomy,” Kaladin grits out, taking deep breaths and slowly loosening to the intrusion. 

Shallan catches Adolin’s eye with a knowing grin. It is not at all lost on her that her wedding night, just a few months prior, was much the same.

Adolin ducks down to suckle the head of Kaladin’s cock, tracing patterns with his tongue. Kaladin’s eyes go wide and he moans. The distraction allows Adolin to add another finger, slowly pushing them forward to the knuckle. He’s trying very hard to ignore his own body’s murmurs of how good, how tight, how welcoming Kaladin will feel. 

Adolin curls his fingers, just a bit, and Kaladin groans. His hips loosen; his shoulders drop; his jaw unclenches. “There we go,” Adolin crows, adding another finger. In what seems like moments, Kaladin is ready, is spreading his legs wider, gripping Adolin’s wrist and telling him no uncertain terms to get on with it.

A pleasant fantasy of making Kaladin wait for it, of making him come on fingers alone, of making him _beg_ , splays itself out across Adolin’s mind, and he resolves to follow through on it when things are a bit less new. When Kaladin is a bit less fragile.

Then, he slicks himself up and presses slowly into Kaladin, and loses every train of thought he ever had.

“Oh,” Shallan whispers. Adolin opens eyes he hadn’t realized were closed to see her safehand straying down to her clit, rubbing and teasing. He groans.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“I’m going to kill you _both_ ,” Kaladin huffs, “If you don’t _move_.”

So Adolin does. Slowly, and in increments taking all his composure, he slides in and out. Gently, calmly. 

“More,” Kaladin says.

“Pushy,” Adolin teases, and relinquishes some of his control. He slides in deeper, and Kaladin sobs.

On an impulse, Adolin grasps Kaladin’s wrists in his hand, pins them to the bed above Kaladin’s head. He licks a stripe up Kaladin’s neck.

Kaladin is crying out on almost every thrust, clenching in the most distracting way, his eyes clouded with pleasure, and Adolin is feeling, to be honest, incredibly smug.

Then Kaladin’s legs tighten around his waist, and Adolin finds himself rolled onto his back.

“Not fast enough,” Kaladin tells him, and proceeds to impale himself on Adolin’s prick again and then ride him like a…well, certainly not like Kaladin’s ever ridden a horse.

Adolin finds himself reduced to moans, bucking his hips up to meet Kaladin’s frantic pace. When they find the right angle, Kaladin just about screams. 

Shallan moans from beside the bed, fingers slowing on herself. “You’re beautiful,” she says quietly, and Adolin is positive she means them both. 

He’s sliding fast into oblivion. Kaladin is too tight, too strong, to wild for him to hold out. He grasps for Kaladin’s cock, desperate for them to come together, and Kaladin moans for him again. Adolin is aware he is beyond finesse, beyond technique, but Kaladin doesn’t seem to mind, coming wet and messy all over his fist in a matter of seconds with a sound that pushes Adolin straight over the edge.

It takes him a few minutes to pull himself together, after. He’s a mess, Kaladin’s a mess, the bed is a mess, even Shallan’s a mess with her hair all tangled and her body still flushed.

Kaladin has his eyes shut, lying beside Adolin, and Adolin is suddenly completely sure he’s preparing something monumentally stupid in his silly brain.

“I guess I should go now,” Kaladin says.

Shallan looks shocked speechless. She’s used up her bravery for the night, and with the power of arousal fading, they are left only with honesty and emotion.

Luckily, Adolin is not scared of either. 

“Nonsense,” he says firmly. “You’re staying right here.”

“But-“ Kaladin says, clearly about to reiterate that they are lighteyes and he’s not, that they are married and he’s not.

“I want you to stay,” Adolin says. “Please?”

Kaladin sighs. “Surely there will be consequences.”

“Yes,” Adolin says, pulling Kaladin in for a snuggle (sue him, he’s a cuddler, and Shallan is already sneaking in on his other side). “We might actually end up happy for a change. Imagine that.”

“Sounds difficult,” Kaladin says, but he’s starting to relax, starting to settle, and as Adolin pulls him close to his chest, spooning him from behind, Shallan a warm weight at his back, Kaladin drifts to sleep.


End file.
